Requiem of a Dream
by ZeldaMoogle
Summary: The day of Link's knighting is supposed to be a happy occasion. But after an assassination attempt, the young knight is forced to flee Hyrule to preserve not only his own life, but his homeland's only chance of escape from tyranny's fist. AU postTP LinkOC
1. Knight Errant

**_Legend of Zelda_**

**_Requiem of a Dream_**

An alternate-universe Zelda fanfiction, post-Twilight Princess

By ZeldaMoogle

* * *

Chapter One: Knight Errant

In the late-afternoon, Hyrule Castle was clothed in burnish golds and thick shadow painted on the white-washed walls by an overcast sky and shy sun. Hundreds of citizens traversing the streets created a murmur of activity beyond the keep's outer curtain wall. Scavenger birds—gulls, crows, pigeons—circled in the air and hopped in scouting parties along the cobblestones, seeking the scraps left behind by wealthy and poor alike. To say it succinctly, Castle Town was a conglomeration of businessmen, nobles, and foreign dignitaries amongst and yet far above and away from the squabbling, thieving peasantry and half-starved animals too lazy to leave for better living outside the "thriving" metropolis' walls.

The Castle Grounds, however, were a completely different story. Only noblemen, businessmen, and foreign dignitaries or castle residents with the proper passes were allowed past well-trained guards at its solid, steel-reinforced gates. Beyond the double doors was a vast complex of manicured gardens, paths, and orchards. Guards posted at every other archway through the maze; each was specially trained to know the Grounds inside and out and had at least two years experience as a castle guardsman.

Within the East Quadrant—surrounded by sparring rings, archery ranges, jousting lanes, and other paraphernalia of the soldier's profession—lay the Knight's Quarters. With over fifty rooms on each of five floors, it housed approximately one hundred Hylian knights, their squires, and nearly one hundred thirty pages with room to spare. Annexed on its north side was a seemingly ancient structure rumored to have been a temple in the time of the Imprisoning War. Whatever purpose it had held previously, however, had been lost to history. Now the knights used it for more earthly purposes, such as the event about to take place.

Outside the Hall's double doors, young Link Kasiri of Eldin paced with long, nervous strides. A lifetime of horseback riding made his gait that of one long accustomed to the shape of a saddle; yet constant training in ground fighting had also negated the bowlegged effect. The end result was a sort of predatorily graceful lope which told passersby he was fit and perfectly capable of using the sword slung across his back. At a mature twenty years old, his body was no longer that of an awkward teenager but a chiseled, lean figure of balanced speed and strength. A man less experienced than him in the ways of combat—and he had seen a great deal of it in his short life—would cower upon first sight of him.

A biting breeze blew up from the southeast, fitfully playing with his long blond locks as the knight-in-training prowled. He paused in his musings for a few moments to turn his sapphire gaze on the setting sun, but no longer before he again moved off on his single-minded path in front of the Hall.

Hyrule, he had decided, needed someone of his talents and philosophy. Strange things had been occurring recently—particularly where the Royal Family was concerned—but no one else seemed to care. The citizenry were none the wiser to any trouble, as none had any direct dealings with the Crown; local sheriffs and lords handled the taxes which were always half-heartedly muttered about. Noblemen particularly enjoyed rumor, and especially rumor about the monarchy, so there was no love lost there. Even the military had turned a blind eye to the clandestine happenings right in their backyard. As long as they got food and lodging, and weren't overly abused in training, they could care less about their commander-in-chief's affairs.

To Link, the last straw had been Her Highness the Crown Princess Zelda's mysterious cloistering. At first he had believed, like everyone else, that the heir truly had fallen ill. But then he had met Sensei Impa and her charge as they snuck through the Castle's most-secret back gate. The sensei hadn't told him much, but what she had said had been enough.

His Royal Majesty King Daphnes, Link concluded, had gone mad. Someone had to do something.

Alas, that would have to wait—though luckily not for much longer. Once he had officially been welcomed into the Knight Order of Hyrule, he could utilize the proper channels to enact an investigation of the king's recent odd behavior. Until then, he could only sit back, polish his blade, and wait.

The soldier halted his feet and his brooding as the gargantuan, ancient doors creaked open. Each leaf was pushed by two pages that appeared to be less than ants compared to the towering wood. A distant thrill of what he thought might have been fear flitted through him, but he easily quashed it; he had conquered his fear of the unknown long ago and didn't plan on letting it come back anytime soon. The maw-like opening into the Hall held no threat to him. It was the men inside, his trainers and tutors of the past decade, which could make or break him.

Falling into the perfect focus of combat which he had perfected, Link mounted the small flight of stairs and passed into the metaphorical belly of the beast.

Inside, the dying sunlight that streamed through the cathedral's tall windows was supplemented by candle-laden chandeliers floating high overhead. Beneath the fixtures was set an expansive, U-shaped table of dark wood long enough to seat the entire contingent of knights. At the moment, though, only a fifth of the elite warriors' total number were present—the highest-ranking officers, all noblemen and with over fifteen years of service. Link struggled to retain his aloof, professional demeanor at the sight of them; he should have known only the best would judge him, being the son of their Captain and heir to the Kasiri legacy.

"Welcome, Squire Kasiri," the Knight Captain greeted from the head of the table.

Link put a fist over his heart and bowed his head briefly—the traditional squire-to-mentor salute. "Thank you, Sir Captain."

Dwayne Kasiri, an older man in his mid forties, inclined his head of dark hair. To either side, the knights along the far half of the table copied the motion before following their leader and quietly seating themselves. Link remained standing, watching them apprehensively as Dwayne shuffled parchment around in preparation for his questioning. He knew what was written on them; they were records of every official mission in which he'd partaken. What he didn't know was what his father would see in them—and he was the only one with access to those records at the moment. He could easily present the facts either as they were or with his own twist, for good or ill, and sway the knights to his point of view.

What made Link nervous was that he couldn't even anticipate which side his father would take. The simple concept of it bothered him as nothing else ever had; fathers and sons were supposed to be close, not at each other's throats. More and more recently, however, just the opposite had been the case. Where once Dwayne had taught his only son with enthusiasm, there were times now when he subtly worked against Link.

For Hyrule's sake, Link hoped this wouldn't be one of those times.

The Golden Goddesses must have heard his prayer. Throughout the questioning, the knights scrutinized him carefully but without any overt hostility. Link answered honestly and confidently, his military bearing remaining perfectly intact the whole time. Only his father seemed to differ from the others; even at the distance he was from Link, the squire could see his brow slightly crease and a frown tug at his lips. The man's dark eyes contemplated his son with a calculating edge so faint Link nearly missed it in his concentration on the knights' questions.

At last, not long after the sun disappeared and left only twilight behind, silence descended in the Hall. The Knight Captain slowly rose, both hands resting lightly on the table and parchments before him.

"Knights of the Order." His deep voice reverberated with an ominous musical ring in the cathedral. "Squire Link Kasiri of Eldin, son of Dwayne, has been trained a decade under your tutelage. He has been tried, he has been tested, and he has learned to follow your Creed of Honor through peace and adversity. Today he has been tested once more, and his character and record examined. Now, how say you—do you welcome him as one of you in reward for his efforts; or has he been found wanting, and will remain where he is until another day?"

The first knight seated at the end on Link's left—whom he recognized as Sir Zeriah, his archery mentor—stood first. The elder man cleared his throat, then said, "Long has it been since I laid eyes on a finer young lad. He will be an invaluable contribution to our honorable ranks." He turned to Link, a tiny smile on his weathered features. "I vote 'aye'."

Relief slowly seeped into Link's limbs as, one by one, the other elite joined Sir Zeriah. Without fail each commended him for outstanding character and unparalleled examples of valor. Only his training allowed him to keep a neutral expression on his face and his knees from buckling. Knighthood, his single request out of life, was so close he could almost touch it.

Finally, only one of the twenty one remained. There was no tie to break, nor was the count close, but the Knight Captain's opinion held far greater weight than any of the other knights'. Blue eyes met brown from across the room, and suddenly nothing mattered except father and son. What could have been an eternity passed as the elder Kasiri studied the younger, who unwaveringly held the gaze.

_'Please, Father,'_ he pleaded soundlessly, almost hoping Dwayne would hear him. _'I have cared for you more deeply than anything else in this world. Please don't turn me away now that I have come so far in your footsteps. I simply wish to make you proud. Please, Father…'_

Turning away from Link, Dwayne slowly looked around at his twenty captains, the elite of his force, the foundation of their Order. Returning his gaze to Link, the knight nodded to him and then to his men. As one they drew their swords and held them one-handed before their faces, a line of shining steel pointing toward the rafters. Their Captain swung a specially-made portion of the wood open, a gate leading to the empty space inside the table, and strode toward Link.

As his father approached, Link saluted once more. The man nodded and returned the salute. "Kneel, Squire."

He quickly obeyed, not looking up as he dropped to one knee. The ring of steel and the sliding of Link's blade from its scabbard announced Dwayne's activity.

"Squire Link Kasiri of Eldin, son of Dwayne, do you swear to uphold the laws and advise the monarchy of the kingdom of Hyrule with all the wisdom which you have gathered and will obtain?"

"I so swear by the Wisdom of Nayru."

"Do you swear to lift up the weak and impoverished and to teach them to help themselves, no matter who they may be and no matter their past, with all the courage in your heart?"

"I so swear by the Courage of Farore."

"Do you swear to battle the enemies of your country and your Creed with all the power which your blade, your arm, and your mind may possess, until you have no strength left to continue life?"

"I so swear by the Power of Din."

As the pair recited the ancient oath, something began to tug at Link's senses. He licked his lips nervously, trying to pinpoint what was disturbing the solemn ambience. His forehead creased in concentration, his mind divided between formulating the ritual responses and naming his sense of unease. His left hand twitched subconsciously, tingling with a warm, itchy sensation he couldn't move to get rid of.

The flat of his blade's light touch on his left shoulder instantly identified the reason for his anxiety. A little-known fact about his blade, an heirloom of the Kasiri family, was that it was enchanted to locate and warn its wielder about other enchantments or residual magic. The warm steel was its way of telling that strong magic was near; the only exceptions to its senses were those of the family lineage.

But at the moment the source of its agitation was none other than Knight Captain Dwayne Kasiri.

Something was definitely wrong. Link tensed, muscles ready for action, as Dwayne moved the blade to his right shoulder and continued the ritual. "With the blessings of Din, Nayru, and Farore, we welcome thee as one of our own—Sir Link Kasiri of Eldin, Knight of the Golden Wolf."

He had a second's warning. A spike of heat from his sword gave away Dwayne's strike just in time for him to throw himself backward and out of range. The steel passed within a hair's breadth of his throat, so close he could feel its movement.

Immediately his mind went into combat mode, penning up the whirling thoughts and angry exclamations of shock. Link didn't so much ignore the gasp of surprise from the knights as much as he simply didn't hear it. He quickly jumped to his feet and reflexively disarmed the off-balance captain, snatching his sword up as soon as it left Dwayne's hand. The two knights backed away as their compatriots looked at each other in astonishment, none sure of what exactly they were witnessing.

Link dutifully sheathed his weapon and raised his hands in a gesture of peace. His father didn't seem to agree, however, and drew his own blade. The man's formerly brown eyes flickered red for an instant.

A distant voice he decided was his subconscious commented, _"Well _that's_ screwed up." _He didn't pay attention to it at the time; he had bigger problems to contend with.

"Arrest this traitor!" Dwayne thundered, pointing at him with his sword. Link could feel the warning from his own weapon through its metal case. "He has kidnapped the Princess!"

_"This is _really_ screwed up!"_ his little voice squeaked as the bewildered knights nonetheless surged toward him.

Link glanced side to side, took a step toward them, then turned and ran for his life.

The warrior slammed into the double doors at full speed, his muscles straining against what had taken two strong teenagers to open. After an interminable moment where he feared it wouldn't budge, though, it began to scrape outward. As soon as it was wide enough he slipped through and bolted across the Grounds toward the stable. The shouts of pursuing knights echoed after him.

His feet moved of their own accord as he flew across the courtyard, dodging late-afternoon squires and pages practicing on the lush grass. As he ran, ignoring the protests and exclamations of "Watch where you're going!", his mind raced along a different track. One word consistently looped through his mind—though it was more feeling than word.

_Betrayal._

Link felt betrayed beyond words. His world was crumbling into nothing just as he reached out to grab his prize. His own father had just tried to kill him and then accused him of kidnapping the Princess. The king had gone mad and locked up his own daughter. He simply couldn't understand it; both Dwayne and the King had been his role models. Sure Dwayne had done some odd things before, but never on this scale—and never to Link.

There were other things about recent events which he knew might give him clues as to what was going on, but those would have to wait. He had to leave the castle _now_—go far away and let this matter cool down some. The keep was a bomb about to go off, and the town was within its blast radius. Link couldn't stay here without being imprisoned or having his head separated from his body.

A familiar whinny pulled him out of the murky depths of his thoughts. Azael, Link's dark chestnut gelding, poked his head over the stall door as Link entered. His ears pricked curiously at his master, his dark eyes warm and intelligent in the torchlit stable.

"Hey, boy," the Hylian greeted absently, ruffling the horse's forelock fondly. He then ducked into the tack room, returning shortly with his saddle and bridle. "We're going for a little ride. How's that sound?"

The horse whickered in agreement, tossing his head excitedly.

Ten minutes later, he and Azael were easily cantering through the castle's northern entrance. The guards didn't give them a second glance. Apparently word hadn't yet reached the walls just yet—a fact with which Link was perfectly content at the moment.

It was one of lesser reasons among many why he had chosen the North Gate. Another was that, because it backed against Zora's River, the Town had been unable to spread that far. That meant less congestion for him to ride through and fewer people to note his passing.

Secondly, it was the fastest way into the Snowpeak Range; few dared climb the frosty peaks, including knights. Even if Dwayne did decide to follow him, the chances of them finding him were much less than the chances of getting lost in the attempt.

But, of course, everything depended on him having a good lead on any pursuit. So the knight-errant continued without pause through the night, riding steadily north toward the cold, distant mountains.

* * *

Three days later, Link was rethinking the logic that had urged him into the dangerous, snowy wastes of Hyrule's northern mountain range. Or, more correctly, he was cursing himself for thinking he would only have to hide for a few days at most.

The morning after his escape, he had stopped in a small village situated at the base of the pass which led to Peak Province for supplies and to hide Azael. Horses couldn't survive in the rough peaks without considerable preparation, which he had neither the time nor money to commission. Even a full-fledged knight's horse would have had difficulty, and Azael wasn't even that—simply a favorite squire's mount. So the equine stayed behind until Link could come back for him.

Which brought him to another thought that had gotten him into this mess. He had assumed the pursuit would be half-hearted at best, and that what knights did follow wouldn't bother waiting for him or even be recalled once things settled down back at the castle. With this in mind, he had only requisitioned—and paid the generous villagers for—enough food to hold him over for less than a week.

Link hadn't counted on walking smack dab into the middle of an early winter blizzard.

At least he had listened to some advice from his common sense and scraped together some cold-weather gear. Now he blessed Sir Kiel for all those days spent in the foothills of these same mountains, learning to survive in the frost and ice of the frozen crags. Instead of wasting his energy trudging on through the swirling snow and howling winds, he had dug down into the thick powder like the wolf he had been named for at his ill-fated knighting. The makeshift den had captured his heat and sheltered him from the wind, creating a perfect snow-cave for him to hide in.

All he had left to do was wait.

It was the opportune chance for his thoughts to fester, though—something which could be dangerous in the snow-laden mountains. If he lost any anchor to reality here, he could become delusional and loose his sanity for good; he'd be as dead as if Dwayne _had_ managed to decapitate him.

So he patiently waited out the storm by meditating, sorting through what knowledge he had of the strange occurrences which had driven him here in the first place.

Obviously, he concluded, there was dark magic at work. Whether it originated with the king or Dwayne, though, he wasn't quite sure. His father had been showing signs of odd behavior for some time, but Daphnes' acts of almost overt tyranny indicated a much stronger force at work around the monarchy.

There was the fateful encounter in the Hall, though. Dwayne's eyes had shifted to red for a second—did that give away a manifestation of any kind, or was it simply a side effect of some similar magic? As much as he wrestled with the dilemma, Link couldn't find an answer.

He did wonder where Impa and her charge had fled, though. The warrior suspected that they could be hiding somewhere in this mountain range just as he was. Its vast, unexplored reaches were the perfect place to disappear from the common knowledge…if you knew how to survive. Vaguely he wondered if he might run into them.

Finally, long after his thoughts had trickled into nothing and he was demoted to sleeping much of the time, the sun rose. The unfiltered light was painful after the darkness of the blizzard, but Link welcomed it; he had been sitting in one place for too long. He had refrained from eating more than he had to, but even then his supplies were getting dangerously low. He needed to set up a more-permanent camp—and fast—before the next storm inevitably snowed him in.

It took him all of five minutes to dig out, and then Link was on his way again.

An eerie silence blanketed the mountainside. Once and a while he heard the faint cry of a snow hawk echoed back to him from cliff to cliff, but that was all. It made his footsteps crunching through the ice-coated snow sound out of place, as if he was desecrating a sanctuary. Uneasy with that thought, he determinedly put it out of his mind and continued to trudge onward and upward.

Link quickly lost track of time. Already he was unsure due to the blizzard whether he had spent three or four days in the mountains, but now he really had no clue. Though he was conscious of the danger that presented, there was nothing he could do about it.

So were his circumstances when he stumbled into the wolf pack.

They seemed to simply appear out of the snow, prowling as lightly as birds across the loose powder under-paw. They made Link feel inept and clumsy when compared to their lithe movements. He stood perfectly still as they surrounded him, a ring of white pelts only distinguishable from the landscape and each other by their varied eye colors. Maybe if he didn't bother them they would decide he was no fun and go away; they didn't seem to be starving, which meant they wouldn't make a meal out of him unless they had to. Even if they did want to eat him, once they were in range his sword could easily change their minds.

His blood ran cold when a familiar voice ordered the canines to stand down.

His trackers had found him.

Dwayne stepped out from behind a snow-covered boulder a short ways ahead of and to Link's left. Five other knights revealed themselves from their hiding places all along the cliff-bound pass in which he had been travelling. All wore high-collared cloaks and scarves which concealed goat-skin tunics, the perfect mountain gear for true knights. It made him self-conscious of his beaten cowhide cape and tattered green tunic; he looked more like the felon Dwayne accused him of being than a proud young knight.

Their Captain lazily applauded his son as he plowed through the snow toward him. "Bravo, Link, bravo. I must say, your efforts certainly have been entertaining and quite informative to watch—but your time is up."

Link's lips formed a predatory snarl and he narrowed his eyes. "I'm not giving up. I'd rather die than go back to the castle just yet."

A cruel smile grew on Dwayne's countenance. "Who said anything about going back? I'd much rather take you up on that offer of your head."

His son returned it with a challenging grin and drew his sword. "Come and get it then."

Dwayne scowled and waved his hand. His knights ran heavily through the thick snow toward him, but Link wasn't going to wait for them. He spun and threw a hidden knife straight through the eye of a wolf behind him, then ran toward the gap its corpse made. Its neighbors lunged for him at a command from the Knight Captain, but Link simply ran his sword through one and smashed the other back with a gauntleted fist.

He scrabbled up a nearby slope, hands reaching desperately for holds on the icy rocks, as the rest of the canines turned on him. Fangs grazed against his boot as he flailed around; a lucky kick rewarded him with a pained yelp that was replaced by angry snarling from the wolf's comrades. A human shout warned him of the knights' arrival, and he doubled his efforts to put distance between them. He had to avoid any ranged attacks from the Hylians, or he would be as good as gone in this frigid environment. Of all his mistakes, not purchasing any medical equipment had been his most stupid.

Under normal circumstances, he would not have attempted climbing this cliff-face; it had the fewest holds of any he had ever encountered, and on top of that it was covered in ice. Climbing with a sword in one hand, approximately four wolves and seven knights looking for his blood standing beneath him, made it even more difficult. Therefore, what could have been a fatal slip didn't surprise him—

But the hand that caught his did.

At first he didn't question it. His mind and body were working in overdrive trying to get away from Dwayne's men. The added help was simply a faster way out, of which he took quick advantage. Only once he was on flat ground did Link turn to thank his mysterious rescuer—but when he realized who it was, he couldn't speak.

The Shekiah sensei didn't smile or even notice his shock, simply retrieved a set of needle-thin blades from a pouch on her thigh. "Run," was all Impa said before melting into the shadows of an overhang two feet behind her.

As soon as he regained his senses, Link did just that.

* * *

**A/N:** And so the epic quest begins! What the heck is up with the _wonderful_ Knight Captain, and why was the Princess imprisoned? That, my friends, remains to be seen...

Now, a little background here (no, no spoilers--sorry). I have to admit, my lovely muse Gwen handed me this plot (or, half of it at least...) on a silver platter--in a dream. Yeah, it sounds cliche, I know. But it was perfect, and I couldn't resist putting it to paper--er, keyboard. This is, however, not its entirely original form, as I had to clean up a few odd points that only my crazy subconscious (and Gwen) could come up with when left to their own devices, as well as fill in a few gaps between the original scenes Gwen gave me. (Names were also a bit of an issue, haha. =P) It still promises to be awesomely-epic, though, so prepare to hold on for a crazy ride! =D

Also, this is the only-ever dream I've ever had the feeling I could do this with--so consider yourselves lucky! lol j/k Though you might consider it lucky that I've got half of the story figured out already, so hopefully updates will come regularly... But we know how _that_ goes.

Yes, those of you bursting to ask the question: this _is_ post-Twilight Princess. Though I think by now it's obvious how completely different it is from the canon game, haha. This is long after Twilight Princess, is pretty much all I'll say at the moment--long enough that the guards are no longer (entirely) cowardly, and the Knights have an established presence in the country. As for anything Twilight Princess related that may end up in here...well, I'll leave that up to your imagination at the moment, tehe. ;D

By the way, so everyone's on the same page: dashes like this (**—**) when by themselves will serve as single-day time jumps; FF dividers (the big long gray ones) will mean a slightly longer time jump and/or PoV switch; and specialized breaks (like **.oO—Oo.**) will be considerable time lapses. (Be forewarned, these are more..._guidelines_ than rules, if ye catch me drift. **;)**) Speaking of which, although I'm taking a primarily separate 3Per PoV, there's a bit of an omniscient (look it up) feel to the narration in some places, too--just to warn you.

Until next chappie--chau!

_~ZeldaMoogle_


	2. Guardian Angels

**A/N:** Not really much to explain. Just don't get too used to frequent updates! I'm trying to keep a couple chapters ahead in the current draft, so these won't get up probably without a 2+ week delay between each. Now enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Two: Guardian Angels

In all her nineteen years, Myria had never seen a blizzard like this.

The Aldean foothills of Snowpeak were well-known for their harsh autumn squalls, but even her mother Feyla had not seen a storm like this since she herself was a young girl. The wind howled around their small home with the furor of a wolf denied entry to the rabbit's den. Snow blew so thickly that the young woman could hardly see ten feet in front of her when she went to check on Daevin, who refused to come in the house but stayed to watch his animals in their tiny stable. Myria was glad of the rope Feyla had thoughtfully strung between house and barn just before the ominous clouds had rolled in two days ago.

_'At this rate,'_ she thought as she battled through the blizzard for the fourth time, _'we won't be able to get to Prywyn for another two months. Thank the Goddesses Mother had the foresight to gather herbs before it got this bad.'_

The girl strained to see through the flying snow, pulling her scarf farther over her nose to protect it from the stinging flakes. There—the dim silhouette of their small house finally resolved through the darkness, lantern light faintly shining through the den window like a ghostly beacon. Clinging tightly to the rope on her right, she plowed forward through the slight path still visible from her previous runs.

Only twenty feet from the house, however, Myria paused. She studied an irregular snow bank perplexedly; that hadn't been there twenty minutes ago when she left the house. Risking the blizzard's wrath, she let go of the rope and tromped through the waist-high snow to it. Suspicions arose in the back of her mind when she recognized its vague shape, but she set them aside as she knelt and began digging through the enormous drift.

Her wool gloves quickly became soaked and waterlogged, but despite the threat of frostbite if she didn't get them off and warm her hands, she continued. At points when the wind grew too strong to work through, she simply hunkered down and waited it out. She was making good progress—the fresh snow was light and loose, easy to shift aside. The wind even helped somewhat, as it sculpted the snow in a fashion that thinned the portion through which she dug.

After what felt an age from when she began, her hand hit something solid—and only slightly warmer than its environment. She didn't stop now that she knew what was beneath the snow, though. Instead she continued to unbury it at a frantic pace, quickly revealing a hand and an arm.

It was a warrior, judging by the sword hilt she uncovered near his left shoulder. Within ten minutes she had him free of the snow that had trapped him and began towing him toward the house. Suddenly the twenty feet might as well have been twenty miles; the man was at least a head taller than her and dense with toned muscles. Even a strong fisherwoman like her would have had difficulty hauling an unconscious man like him across flat ground, let alone through a blizzard.

But she couldn't just leave him out here, even for a few minutes to get her mother to come out and help. He could die of hypothermia or frostbite in that short time. Daevin's help was out of the question, as he was even farther away. So Myria gritted her teeth, prayed to Din for strength, and forged on as best she could.

Finally she stumbled onto the small stone patio her father had built shortly before his disappearance. Wearily she shifted the warrior's weight to one side in order to open the door; the simple effort took all her remaining strength.

Myria was vaguely aware of her mother looking up from her knitting as she and the stranger collapsed just inside the threshold. She gasped and rushed over to them, closing the door and helping her daughter up before turning to the bedraggled man sprawled on the floor. Only then did Myria notice how pale and blue his skin was, and the icicles that had formed in his hair and on his clothes. She had a feeling his ornate sword wouldn't have come out of the sheath if she had tried to draw it at that moment.

"Quickly—" Feyla's curt voice cut through her fascinated study of the man. "—get him on the couch."

Together the two easily managed to lift and carry the sodden soldier from a gradually enlarging puddle by the door to their only couch. At a few words from the healer Myria darted into the back portion of the house and then the cavernous cellar for the herbs Feyla would need. Having retrieved the delicate dried plants, she rummaged around in a trunk in her mother's room for some old clothes of her father's and snatched an extra blanket for good measure. Arms loaded down with the supplies and an extra pillow, she returned to the living room.

By that time Feyla had already stripped him and laid two thick blankets over him. His wet clothes were draped across the fireplace mantel to dry and she was readying a pot for the ingredients that would make her special remedy.

Myria handed her mother the required herbs, laid the clothes she had pilfered on an end table, and draped the extra blanket over her patient. Gently lifting his head forward so as not to disturb him, she slipped the pillow behind his head; his skin felt icy against her warming hands. Drops of water from his hair traced tiny rivers down her fingers.

Gingerly she brushed aside the golden bangs plastered to his forehead and laid her palm across the pale skin. "He's got a fever, Mother," she informed Feyla anxiously. She checked his pulse; it was weak, but steady.

The older woman smiled reassuringly at her, slowly stirring the simmering broth. "Don't worry dear. He's young and strong—he'll pull through it yet, just you watch."

Reluctantly, she took the healer's advice and sat back to wait, drawing a chair up beside the stranger's head. Though she knew her mother was the best healer in the Aldean foothills—some said the best in Aldea—Myria nonetheless worried for him. By her judgment he had been out in the cold without proper gear for far too long. From what she could tell about him by his belongings, she guessed he was a soldier. But either he hadn't been expecting a blizzard, or he wasn't a very smart traveler; he hadn't had any food that she could see. She even checked through his stuff to be sure she was correct.

Nothing.

What kind of idiot went out into a snowstorm of _this_ magnitude, let alone without food?

She turned her attention back to the warrior. Now that she thought about it, she realized he was a foreigner—Hylian, if she wasn't mistaken. Not many Aldeans had ears that long and pointed, and the few she knew were of Hylian descent.

But then what was a Hylian doing here? Little news reached Aldea of their neighbor's activities, as the pass through Snowpeak Range was treacherous even in mild summers. Once in a while an enterprising merchant or rugged mercenary would pass through the little village of Prywyn—aptly named Pass Guard in the ancient tongue—but they were usually gone within the week.

Myria decided this person didn't fit the normal circumstances. His sword, for instance; it was the most beautifully crafted thing she had ever seen. She was sure ordinary soldiers didn't carry such pretty weapons. Even his facial features gave her the impression he wasn't common. His face was oval shaped with a small nose and angled eyebrows—perfect aristocratic Hylian traits. Despite the drawn look he had gained from his ordeal, she admitted to herself that he was rather handsome. He couldn't have been all that much older than her, either.

Her mother's presence dragged Myria from her musings. Feyla held a cup of steaming "elixir soup" in her hands, which she offered to her daughter. "Don't give it to him too quickly, or he'll wake with a burned mouth."

Nodding dutifully, Myria accepted the clay mug carefully and blew on it to cool it down some. When she judged it was only little hotter than lukewarm, she tilted the stranger's head forward again and carefully dripped the potion down his throat. She breathed a small sigh of relief when he feebly swallowed it; at least he could still interact with his surroundings, even in unconsciousness.

Feeling much better about his chances of recovery, Myria set the mug on the end table as her mother departed for the bedrooms.

The girl was determined to watch over him until he awoke, stupid Hylian or not.

* * *

_The Kasiri estate in spring time had always been his favorite getaway. Warm sunlight glinted off the tumbling surface of Eldin Lake like dancing fairies. Frothy waves splashed against his face as he dove into the crystalline waters. A breeze chilled his bare torso every time he climbed onto shore, making him race for the warm lake again just to escape its caress._

_He shook drops of water from his long bangs and blue eyes after his second dive, grinning at feminine laughter coming from the safety of the grass a few feet from shore. An elegantly-dressed woman with dirty blonde hair sat near the beach, randomly picking budding wildflowers to add to her growing bouquet. She was about mid-thirties, but had the glow of a young woman in her prime that was obvious when one looked into her green eyes._

_"Link, if you stay in there much longer, you're going to become a Zora," the woman chastised lightly, eyes twinkling with mirth. She plucked a newly-bloomed white lily out of a clump beside the deserted dock from which he had been diving._

_He merely laughed at her concern. "You know that won't happen, Mother—I love the land too much. The water's just such a wonderfully refreshing feeling after being cooped up all winter."_

_Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew something was wrong with this situation, but he couldn't put a finger on it. Unconcerned by it, he leisurely swam back toward the dock as the sun lined the nearby Goron Ridge with amber illumination. Water streamed from his skin like hundreds of tiny waterfalls as he strode onto the beach; he shook his golden mane as vigorously as a dog to dislodge the moisture. He smiled contentedly, watching the world's lantern slowly dim as it sank farther behind the mountains._

_A rough horn call broke the evening stillness, echoed by a dozen others of the same variety. Immediately his head whipped around to face the direction of the sound. His mother stood slowly, gazing worriedly out at the eastern hills across the lake._

_"We should get back to the manor, Link," she suggested anxiously._

_Before they could do anything, however, a black-fletched arrow sprouted from her chest._

_"Mother!"_

"Mother!"

Link instinctively lunged forward, but his hands only met empty air. Adrenaline surged through his body with a speed matched only by his racing heart.

It took him a few seconds of panting and blinking to realize he wasn't on the lakeshore anymore. Slowly he began to regulate his breathing, using a meditation technique he had learned long ago to quickly calm himself down.

It had just been a nightmare—nothing life-threatening, nothing with fangs wide open to devour him. He was safe. Sadly, he knew his long-deceased mother wasn't.

"Mother, he's awake!" the feminine voice he had heard in his dream called again. He noted her voice quavered slightly with shock, which he guiltily guessed was from his rude awakening. Wondering where he was, he slowly opened his eyes.

The first thing he saw was a brunette woman hovering concernedly over him. A pair of gorgeous dark brown eyes studied him expertly but without any attempt at concealing her worry. Her long hair framed her face and was haloed by a light source Link couldn't place at the time.

She was the most welcome sight he'd ever seen.

"How are you feeling?" the woman—a girl not long out of her teenage years, really—queried anxiously.

He exhaled heavily and leaned back, faintly noting the pillows behind him as she felt his forehead. Despite his vigorous awakening, he could feel his whole body shaking with fatigue. When he attempted to answer, he found that his throat didn't want to cooperate; he cleared it tentatively and whispered, "Could be better. Where am I?"

Truth be known, he didn't remember much after running into that second blizzard. A day after losing Dwayne and his knights was all he had gotten before the monster storm had jumped him. He was pretty sure he had gone delirious that time, despite his training; lack of food could do that to a person.

"You're in my home. I found you buried in the snow outside. My mother and I have been taking care of you since."

He rubbed at his face wearily. "How long has it been? I completely lost track of time in the mountains…"

Another woman entered his line of sight, who he guessed was the first's mother. They had quite the familial resemblance—similar colored hair, similar shape to the eyes and cheekbones. Her eyes were more amber and her hair a lighter cinnamon brown, though. She handed a steaming mug to her daughter. "You have slept for three days, running a fever and shaking like a leaf. You are lucky Myria found you when she did."

"And that Mother is the best healer in the region," the girl added with pride, smiling at her mother and taking the mug. She held it out to him. "This is what she calls her elixir soup—heals just about anything. Careful; it's hot."

Warmth immediately relaxed his hands as they curled around the cup. He sat up and cradled it in both hands, studying its pale yellow contents. At first glance it didn't really look all that appetizing, but the smell was irresistible. After blowing on it a moment, he took a cautious sip.

_Delicious_ was the only word he could think of to describe the taste. Being careful not to burn his mouth, he drained the mug.

When he returned the cup, he noticed he wasn't shaking anymore. He smiled at Myria, pleased. "Thank you," he said gratefully.

She returned his smile shyly. "You're welcome."

Her mother replaced the girl on the seat beside him as she moved out of sight around the couch. "That girl hasn't left your side except for necessities," the woman told him seriously. She smiled and patted his hand. "I told her you'd make it. You are strong."

Link sighed and closed his eyes, remembering the feeling of helplessness he'd become well-acquainted with recently. He couldn't stop the king; he couldn't stop his father; he couldn't stop the knights; he couldn't even survive two blizzards, thanks to his own stupidity. How strong was he really if he was powerless to help himself, let alone others?

The woman seemed to sense the direction of his thoughts. "Everyone makes mistakes, young warrior, though some weigh more heavily on certain people." She nodded, appearing every bit the sage at that moment. "You are one of those; you take the weight of the world on your shoulders, unbidden, and expect nothing but good from your efforts in return. I think you could use some more pride in yourself, if I'm not mistaken."

He licked his lips nervously, eyeing her suspiciously. "Who are you? You sound like Sir Ezeck with all that philosophical talk."

Giving him a smile that took ten years off her countenance, she said, "I am simply Feyla, a healer of the Aldean foothills—and you, Sir Knight, are at the mercy of my compassion."

Catching the none-too-subtle hint in her words, Link hesitated. How much could he tell these people, to whom he was indebted and yet knew almost nothing about? He decided a vague truth would have to do for now, as much as he hated to twist statements even a little.

"Yes, I am a knight—" He added wryly, "—though only recently knighted, if that. My name is Link Kasiri. I was attacked unjustly and chased out of the country shortly after the ceremony for reasons that I don't know. I came through a blizzard only to run into a second one days later; I was completely unprepared. I don't even remember what happened after that. Next thing I knew, I was here."

Feyla studied him with sympathetic eyes. Link got the feeling she knew he wasn't telling everything. After a moment, though, she simply nodded slowly and said, "You have been through much, young knight. I will let you keep your secrets." The woman patted his hand maternally, giving him a sad smile. "Now sleep; regain your strength. I have a feeling you're going to need it."

**.oO—Oo.**

Link took the healer's suggestion to heart. For the next four days he remained bedridden, unable to stand but determined to gain back his strength before doing anything too strenuous. As far as he could tell, he had plenty of time; Dwayne's men would never be able to follow him through that blizzard and the deep drifts it left behind.

Throughout his recovery, Myria was his constant companion. The first day felt the most awkward, as Link was still too weak to move or hold a proper conversation for any length of time. But thanks to Feyla's herbal expertise, that quickly changed. By the time he managed to hobble around their small house by himself, the two youths were inseparable.

Cooped up by the vast plains of snow beyond their door, the pair resorted to storytelling and impromptu games to pass the time and burn energy. It didn't last for too long, though, as Link's strength returned by leaps and bounds. Soon it was like keeping a wolf—albeit a tame and friendly one—in a cramped cave. Even teaching Myria how to play chess on a makeshift board and with pieces he carved himself couldn't keep him occupied for long.

"Your turn," Myria reminded amusedly.

The knight's head swiveled around from where he had been gazing distantly out the window. "Oh. Sorry." He took a moment to study the board, then moved his white-square mage three squares up and left. "Check."

The girl pouted, frustrated by the move which she hadn't seen coming. Inwardly, Link smiled at her expression; he could have called her cute, the way her nose wrinkled and her eyebrows angled nearly as sharply as his own. But he wasn't going to say that out loud: one, he knew her reaction wouldn't be nearly as pleasant; two, he was in the middle of a fight. Half of chess was a mental battle—trick the opponent here, trap them there, make a feint which would disguise the real offensive. After a while, they'd simply get too frustrated to counterattack properly and make fatal errors. In the meantime, he had to keep up the poker face to unnerve and unbalance her.

"You know," she commented, fingering her black-square knight contemplatively, "I get the feeling you're not even trying, yet still managing to pummel me into nothing."

He lifted a finger sagely, a gesture he was borrowing from Sir Ezeck specifically for that effect. "Ah, but you forget—I've been trained in the intricacies of chess for years. You, my young apprentice, have just started to grasp the basic principles of combat."

Myria sighed and leaned back from the board, the knight left where it was. "Maybe we should take a break, then." She grinned. "Besides, it's about time you met my crazy brother."

Now it was Link's turn to appear confused. _'Nice shift in power there,'_ he noted absently. Aloud, he said, "What about the snow?"

To his chagrin, that simply made her laugh. "What—is the fearless knight who braved two blizzards afraid of a little powder on the ground? That's pathetic." Still grinning, she stood and moved toward the door. "I'll have you know, you've been practically pacing like a caged animal the past few days. It'll do you good to get out, snow or no snow."

Unable to resist, Link laughed and followed her. "Alright, I'm coming."

To his delight, the snow wasn't as deep as he had feared. An adequate path had been plowed out of the drifts by Myria's feet in weeks previous, allowing them to walk through half the amount of snow piled around them. The stable Myria had told him about lay twenty-five yards from the house, nestled under a rocky overhang which kept most of the snow out. A paddock large enough for two horses to easily roam without overgrazing encompassed two sides of the barn and flowed out into the unbroken snow beyond.

Link inhaled the fresh winter air appreciatively, glad to be in the wide outdoors again. Not a cloud broke the endless blue sky. The snow sparkled like a field of diamonds in the bright sunshine. A puff of steam drifted before his face when he exhaled.

"So, why exactly do you call your brother crazy?" he questioned curiously as they approached the quaint stable.

"We'll, he's a bit eccentric," the girl explained slowly. "Ever since Father left—or so Mother says—Daevin's been obsessed with the horses and other animals he left behind. It's gotten to the point where he doesn't often interact with outsiders, or even Mother and I when he's in a certain mood."

"Oh." He blinked. "And you're taking me, a stranger, to meet him…why?"

Throwing a grin over her shoulder, Myria said, "One, I want to see both of yours reactions. Two, I get the feeling you're a horse person, so you two might get along nicely. Maybe we can bring him out of his shell a bit."

Link sighed resignedly and shook his head. _'Goddesses help me,'_ he prayed amusedly.

They continued in silence toward the stable. Despite Myria leading the way through the snow, Link quickly felt his muscles begin to burn from the exertion. He welcomed the challenge, though; the exercise could only be good for him at this point, as long as he didn't overdo it. A few minutes later, they stepped out of the snow bank into a shoveled, open area beside the barn's main door.

"Daevin!" Myria called, hurrying toward the door. The wood had been cut into two at about waist height, and the top half was swung ajar at that moment. "There's someone here I'd like you to meet."

There was a loud _thunk_ against the wooden interior and the squawking of irritated poultry. Over the terrified bleating of goats, a muffled voice shouted back, "I'm kinda busy at the moment, Sis. Tell 'im to come back later, will ya?"

The girl visibly flinched as something crashed against something else inside. A dog barked and a horse whinnied shrilly. His curiosity piqued, Link joined her to observe the chaos.

The barn was really little more than two stalls—both occupied at the moment—a rickety tack room, and a straw-covered common area. Cuckoo nests lined the floor beside the makeshift equipment shed and a folded cot was propped against the wall nearby. Beds of sheepskin for two dogs had been set up in the corner to the door's right.

But Link only noticed these later. His attention was elsewhere.

A young man in rough farmer's garb darted about the fifty-foot-long space, nimbly jumping panicked cuckoos and dodging the flailing hooves of a third, enormous draft horse. Link's eyes had trouble keeping up with the fast-moving lad, but he did manage to conclude that Daevin wasn't much older than him. And that he, too, had a family resemblance to Myria and Feyla.

"Is that Epona causing trouble again?" Myria demanded.

"Yes," her brother shot back distractedly. Link mentally applauded him as the boy slid under a potentially lethal blow and snatched at the mare's lead rope. The powerful horse, however, would have none of it and yanked the line from his hand once more.

"I'll help him," Link declared, gently pushing Myria aside to open the bottom door. He slipped through before she could protest.

Noticing the newcomer in their midst, the other animals quickly moved from his path. As he cautiously approached the vexed equine, he began to hum and then whistle a simple melody. Instantly the lesser creatures and other horses quieted, listening intently. Daevin, too, backed away from his horse and studied Link curiously.

But the knight had eyes only for Epona. He had judged her incorrectly—she was no plow horse. Even in the dark barn he could see she had the powerful hindquarters and thick cannon bones of a warhorse. She seemed a little skinny, but her shaggy winter coat was lovingly cared for. Her eyes shone with equine pride and intelligence as she pranced restlessly.

Epona's feet stilled for a moment as Link's melody reached her velvet ears, which swiveled forward to better hear the soft sounds. Snorting and shaking her mane out, she stamped a hoof imperiously and dipped her huge head to scrutinize him. He didn't flinch at her antics, simply continuing the lullaby without quaver or pause. Step by step, he inched toward the mare.

The tense moments melted into calm as soon as Link put a soft hand on Epona's massive neck. Every creature gave a collective sigh of relief when she huffed heavily and amicably bumped her nose against the Hylian's torso. He chuckled and scratched behind her ear, which she leaned into contentedly.

"She likes you," Daevin whispered incredulously.

Link cocked his head at the older boy confusedly. "All knights teach their mounts Zelda's Lullaby. It's supposed to have a soothing effect on any animal, really, but horses especially seem to appreciate it."

The Aldean nodded dumbly, still awed by the display. "Well, yeah, but…Epona's not just any horse. She doesn't let just anyone approach her, let alone touch her. I thought I was one of the few who could—and even then that isn't guaranteed every time."

_'Oh.'_ Link smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck self-consciously.

"So I was right!" Myria proclaimed triumphantly, leaning against the half-door. "You _are_ a horse person—an animal whisperer, too, if I might be so bold."

"It's just an old knights' trick," he protested modestly.

"Can you teach me?" Daevin demanded excitedly, latching onto his arm. Epona snorted irritatedly at the motion.

Link laughed at his childish enthusiasm. This kid wasn't crazy, he decided—just a ten-year-old at heart. "It's really very simple. First, pick a melody…"

Across the stable from the two boys, Myria smiled. This was going to be the beginning of a wonderful friendship.

She had no idea of just how true that prediction was.


	3. Getting to Know You

**A/N:** I'm actually rather amazed at the amount of filler-ish schtuff I've managed to use here. I usually don't do well with non-actiony/ploty stuff. Time lapses, as you can probably see, don't usually agree with me... xP But I think it's worked this time! =D So now I shall desist from a rant and let you all enjoy it. Except for one thing...

_-insert beg/plea/request/obeisance for a review here-_

* * *

Chapter Three: Getting to Know You

With a new-found outlet for his growing energy, Link soon regained his former strength. The next month passed quickly for the trio in the stable; in no time they found themselves outside for whole consecutive days. Epona especially enjoyed the disappearance of the snow—the five-year-old frisked through what drifts remained with the vigor of a yearling.

Myria leaned back against the fence, a tiny smile on her face as she watched the men and horse race around the paddock. The Hylian had been working patiently all through the snowbound days to get Epona to accept a saddle, but as of yet she wasn't having any of that. Daevin had joined the effort with an impatient enthusiasm that Link only barely managed to control. As he had explained to them, horses were very resistant to abrupt changes, especially the older ones. From what Daevin had told him about the mare, he was pretty sure it would take more than two months to get a saddle pad on her—let alone a rider.

But of course, that didn't stop him from trying.

The girl returned her attention to the field as the mare in question trotted toward her. Epona snorted and shook her mane in amusement as the panting humans trailed after her. Laughing, Myria approached the horse and patted her neck amicably.

"Having fun, girl?" she cooed, stroking the mare's velvety muzzle. She huffed in satisfaction and sniffed Myria's hand. Finding nothing there, she turned her questing nose to the Aldean's pocket. She obligingly presented the horse with a sugar cube; the girl giggled when the pink tongue tickled her fingers.

Link came up on her other side as the horse finished the cube. He slapped Epona's neck affectionately, but his demeanor was bemusedly resigned. "You're quite the stubborn one, that's for sure. At this rate I doubt we'll ever get a rider on you."

That sentiment made Myria laugh. Daevin, bent over with his hands on his knees, glared up at her hurtfully. "You just don't know how to treat a girl," she teased them. "All she's looking for is a little respect."

As if to agree with her, the horse in question snorted.

"Well then, why don't _you_ show us how it's done?" her brother retorted.

Link remained silent, arms crossed, but watched her carefully for her reaction.

Myria hesitated, suddenly regretting speaking out. She wasn't much of a horsewoman, but what she did know of this particular horse told her that the boys were going about saddling her the wrong way. The majority of men had a domination complex that didn't go over with some girls, and Epona was one of those girls. What Myria saw in Epona she recognized as a kindred feeling: the desire for respect for who she was—not as a "weak" girl or, in the horse's case, a mode of transportation.

The mare huffed and stepped away from the girl when she tried to stand beside her flank. But instead of immediately chasing her, Myria tentatively began to hum a tuneless melody. Epona's ears flicked back and forth curiously, fixated on the sounds. Inspired, she switched to whistling an old Aldean shepherd's song.

With a happy squeal and a loud whinny, Epona reared and wheeled about on her hind legs before taking off across the pasture again. In her shock Myria's tune wavered for a second, but realizing the effect it had on the horse, she managed to smoothly continue it. The human trio watched in slack-jawed amazement as the mare careened around the field, leaping snow drifts in extravagant bounds and throwing clods of sod into the air. From the look on his face, Myria guessed that even Link had never seen an equine behave in such a manner. Even when she stopped whistling, the horse remained in high spirits. She pranced lively from side to side before them like an excited princess showing off a new outfit.

"Well, I guess we found her song," Link commented, giving Myria a knowing smile. The girl felt a flush creep into her cheeks, which she hid by hugging Epona's neck. She in turn playfully bumped her nose against the Aldean's arm.

Daevin, however, was unimpressed. "Ok, so you whistled some old tune that makes her run around like a maniac. Big deal. That still doesn't get a saddle on her."

Confident with Link's support, Myria just grinned at her brother's bitterness. "Watch," she challenged, moving to the mare's side. Epona huffed and pawed with contained excitement, but didn't shy away. Lightly placing her hands on the tall, strong back, the girl coiled her muscles for the huge leap she would have to make.

Just before she jumped, though, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Link stood behind and to the side of her. "Would you like some help?" he offered quietly, still wearing that half-smile.

The question caught her off-guard, and she hesitated. She was used to the random offers of aid from village boys around her age, but hadn't yet pegged Link as one of that group. He had seemed too quiet, too gentlemanly—not the type which she could joke with and know it was nothing more than friendly banter. Even in four weeks of close association, they hardly knew each other well enough to be called more than acquaintances.

If that was the case, though, then why did she feel as if she had known him for years?

She quickly shook herself out of those thoughts. "Y-yeah," she responded to Link's question a little shakily. "Sure. Thanks."

Seeming not to notice her mood, the knight knelt and cupped his hands. Myria grabbed a fistful of Epona's mane, placed her left foot on his interlaced hands, and hoisted herself onto the horse's back. The mare began to prance in anticipation, but a few hummed notes of the folk song stilled her hooves. The girl leaned forward and casually crossed her arms atop the thick neck. "Where to, partner?" she whispered to the attentive velvet ears.

As if understanding her words, Epona turned and started walking in the direction which Myria knew would take them to Prywyn. When she didn't feel any negative weight from her rider, the horse moved into a slow trot. The girl had never been much of a horse person, and so ended up nervously clutching at Epona's mane when she bounced forward.

Immediately the mare dropped back to a walk. She wanted to run—the girl could feel the contained power rippling through the muscles beneath her—but also didn't want to upset her new friend.

Myria considered the horse's wordless suggestion, but then noticed the sun dipping toward the horizon. She nudged Epona's neck in a gesture to turn back toward the boys by the fence line. "Sorry, girl—not tonight. Tomorrow, though, we can go to town. It's about time I checked in with the boss, anyway."

By the time the pair rode up to the fence, Daevin had lost his expression of skepticism and Link was grinning. Myria returned the sly grin with a shy smile of her own.

"She told you so," Link was saying to Daevin as Epona stopped before them.

"That's still not getting a saddle on her," the boy muttered rebelliously.

Myria rolled her eyes and slid off the mare's back. "Close enough. We can work on that tomorrow. At least _I_ can ride her, right?"

Her brother didn't answer, simply pouted and sulked.

* * *

Myria had told him much about Prywyn and her job as a fishing merchant's clerk during the long days stuck in her house, but neither were anything like he had imagined.

Nestled at the foot of the mountains and Peak Pass was a small lake thick with kelp and fish of all varieties, around which Prywyn had been built. The stream that fed it divided the eastern shore of town into two distinct districts: the mercantile and fishery districts. Its north and west sides boasted a predominantly agriculture sector, while most of the in-town housing and inns were situated on the southern shore.

Despite having practically grown up in the hustle and bustle of Castle Town, Link couldn't stop his head from swiveling in all directions as he and Myria made their way through its wide, dusty streets. They could hardly even be called that, he thought, recalling the stone lanes of the Town; these were nothing more than paths when compared with the capitol city's grandeur. Nonetheless, Prywyn had been well-built, and from what his amateur architectural eye told him, the long, wide wooden buildings were maintained regularly. Some gardens, now brown and empty in the midst of winter, had even been built up around public walkways and entrances to businesses and homes alike. Irrepressible ivy snaked up many walls, but it was clearly controlled growth and not the encroachment of wilderness on abandoned structures.

What caught his attention even more than Prywyn's central lake were the villagers. Despite what was proving to be a harsh winter so close to Snowpeak, they retained an infectious air of resilience that Link admired. He couldn't count the number of times he had ridden through the traditionally poorer regions of Hyrule and seen haggard, worn faces pleading for help that he alone could not provide. It had nearly torn his heart into unrecognizable shreds to see those looks on the faces of his own people. And, no matter how much he contributed, he could never seem to reverse that viral feeling of helplessness.

But these people were a proud group, used to the rigors of life in the lowest ranges of the 'Peaks. Well-clothed children laughed and played without a care in the wide courtyards interspersed throughout the maze of tall buildings, a sign of a relaxed community. The youngsters were supervised not by any one person in particular, but by the whole village. As Epona walked carefully through their midst, the older folk did not give the riders mistrusting glares for being the only obvious equestrians in town. Instead they offered warm greetings and well-wishes, both to Myria and him. Some bold children skipped around and alongside them, asking about the strange Hylian or for rides on the huge horse, or just chattering away about matters which Link did not understand.

He studied Myria especially closely as they interacted with the natives, curious as to her relation to these people. It seemed as if she knew everyone and their family members—closely or distantly related—on a first-name basis. At first he thought that might be because she was the daughter of the most-respected healer in the region. Soon, however, he came to the conclusion that the townspeople adored her for her own merits. The ever-present warmth of spirit and gentle demeanor Link had first noted upon meeting her had won the hearts of every man, woman, and child in Prywyn.

The knight commented on this fact when Epona halted by the north shore of the Lake. "The people adore you," he noted matter-of-factly.

Her cheeks flushed even redder than the cold air already made them, but he didn't notice it because he was busy dismounting. "I guess, yeah," she acknowledged shyly, absently playing with a lock of Epona's white mane. "I've probably helped Mother take care of every one of them at some point or another. You really get to know people in such a close community."

"That's true," he agreed, offering a hand to help her down. She took it, swung a leg over the mare's neck, and slid down her side. When she stumbled, his hand steadied hers and the other supported her at the elbow. His strength surprised her.

Suddenly Myria realized her patient was no longer the invalid he had been a month ago.

"Thank you," the girl mumbled self-consciously. He simply smiled and nodded for her to lead the way. Ducking her head, she quickly strode around Epona and up the stairs to her workplace.

The building itself, Link was surprised to note, was elegant in its simplicity and of very sturdy construction. A covered porch wrapped around its front with a slatted railing to prevent accidental falls into the lakeshore that backed up to its edge. Someone had kindly thought to place chairs, rugs, and decorative potted plants on the deck, and simple blue curtains peeked through the open windows. At present the usual shutters that protected the inside from the elements were thrown wide to allow a welcome breeze and sunlight into the stuffy shop.

Myria greeted two older women sitting in adjacent rocking chairs on the porch as the pair passed. They chorused words of welcome in return without looking up from or stopping their work. Being mostly unfamiliar with the fishing profession, Link only saw in their laps tangled threads which he assumed were, in actuality, fishing line.

Once he stepped across the threshold into the large main room, the strong odor of fish assaulted his nose. He could detect various other scents from what he guessed were dozens of smaller bait creatures, but the fish-smell almost drowned them. Shifting his gaze to the back wall, the source of the smell quickly became clear: preserved skins and corpses of monstrous, record-holding fish of all kinds had been nailed to the huge beams. They filled the not-inconsiderable length of wall between two large windows, serving as the obvious focal point of the shop.

Link didn't get more than a glance at the merchandise to his right, however, before a jovial shout caught his attention.

"Myria! Welcome back," the broad-shouldered shop keeper behind a wide countertop to their left greeted loudly.

Link did a double-take as he approached. This man was at least twice as wide and two heads taller than him. The presence he exuded would have made even the trained knight think twice about engaging him in hand-to-hand combat. His warm, twinkling brown eyes, however, negated the intimidating effect and calmed Link's twitching sword hand.

That subconscious reaction startled and shamed him. The shop keeper obviously wasn't a threat—he might not have even known he had that kind of effect on people—yet Link's first instinct had been to go for a sword he didn't have.

_'Must be the foreign atmosphere making me jumpy,'_ he muttered grumpily.

"It's good to be back, Glen," Myria returned with a smile. "One can only play in the snow for so long before it becomes irritatingly tedious."

Glen chuckled, a sound which reminded Link of the brown bears that roamed the Hylian slopes of Snowpeak. "True, true… All th' same, I was worried 'bout you. Livin' up in those isolated hills with only yer poor mother and crazy brother t' look afta ya. And wi' th' crazy weather we been havin', I wasn't sure you'd make it up here anytime soon."

Myria's grin widened and she glanced briefly at the knight beside her. Link felt the sinking feeling in his stomach which, during training, usually meant he was about to be ambushed.

"Well, we did have an…unexpected guest drop in during the storm, but it wasn't so bad as it could have been," she replied casually. "Even though Mother and I had to save him from his own stupidity."

Link shot her a sour glare and opened his mouth to retort, but realized that what he was about to say would only bring a rush of questions. He hadn't yet told anyone exactly _why_ he had been wandering around in that blizzard. If Dwayne had managed to cross the mountains since then, he didn't want to put these people in danger for his sake. His knightly pride wouldn't let him do that to _anyone_, and especially to someone he hardly knew.

So instead he gave up the verbal counter-attack and let his hostess introduce him to her boss.

* * *

The day seemed eerily like the ones he had thought he left behind with Hyrule and squirehood. Myria towed him behind her like a trolling line from a boat as she showed him around, jabbering on and on about Prywyn and the fishing profession about which it was centered. Before then, he had thought there were only one or two ways to fish: with a line and pole, or a reel and lure. His single-day sojourn in Prywyn taught him better, and the overwhelming amount of new information made his mind reel as if he had gone back to the first day of weapons training as a page.

Lunch had been his only break before they dived back in to the daily work of the shop, fixing a hundred different kinds of tangled lines and broken rods and selling bait and other supplies. By the time twilight rolled around, the warrior was thoroughly exhausted in mind if not in body. He had a headache and his feet throbbed inside his suddenly uncomfortable boots. He was certain his eyes would gain a permanent squint if he had to figure through any more knotted fishing line.

But Link would be damned if he went to sleep without doing a little something of his own. A waxing gibbous moon provided plenty of light for his night-adjusted eyes as his picked his way along the smooth, sloping shore of the lake. The cool night breeze tugged gently at his uncovered hair, blowing the refreshing taste of water over him and into the village beyond. He paused a few times to study the gently rippling glass surface that stretched a quarter of a mile away to his left, breathing deeply and simply relishing the quiet.

He hadn't had many chances to do that since he awoke in Myria's house, Link reflected as he finally reached a satisfactory spot and settled himself on the sparse grass. Having gotten comfortable, he set the simple rod and line he carried on the ground beside him and pulled off his boots. His feet thanked him by lessening the nonstop pulsing which had nagged him for the whole short walk.

With a contented sigh the knight reclaimed his rod and flicked the line on its end out into the dark waters. A tiny ripple was the only sign that it had pierced the surface, as Link had forgone both bobber and bait in favor of a plain silver hook. He dug a hole in the sandy earth large enough to hold the pole upright and jammed its end into it, patting down the excess before lying on his back and folding his arms behind his head.

He could almost hear the comments of his fellow squires, memories of times when the boys had taken a day-long trip to the gentler part of Lanayru River. Link had done the same thing there.

"You're not gonna catch anything like _that,_ Kas." Kas had been their nickname for him, as "Link" sounded strange and "Kasiri" too formal for everyday use.

"The point isn't to catch something," the then-fifteen-year-old had retorted lazily, setting his customary and coincidentally non-regulation cap over his eyes. "It's to relax. If you end up snagging something, great—but I just want to take a nap."

"You're not gonna catch anything like that, silly," a completely different voice that originated from right over his head commented teasingly.

Link sat upright, twisting around to look at his uninvited guest. Myria stepped around and sat down beside him, settling her long brown skirt over her legs. He noticed idly that she was barefoot, too, and that she had let her hair down from the bun which kept it out of her face while she worked. The moonlight lit her tanned skin with an eerie pale glow that cast a fey air about her.

"The point isn't to catch something—it's to relax," he returned, barely stifling his chuckle at the irony of his explanation. "If you end up snagging something, great, but most times I just want to relax."

Instead of teasing him like his former comrades would have, however, the girl simply smiled and nodded understandingly. "Fishing really is quite soothing," she agreed, following his half-submerged line with her eyes. Then they shifted to him, a knowing gleam in their earthy depths. "For one who, from what I know, hasn't grown up around fishing people, you seem to enjoy it."

Link chuckled. "I honestly don't see how anyone couldn't. I was raised in the countryside; though my training was based in Castle Town, I've never been able to get used to the crowds and the noise." He gestured at the sleeping village with a wide sweep of one arm. "This quiet reminds me of my childhood."

Myria stared thoughtfully out at the lake for some time before cocking her head at him like a robin. "You haven't said much about Hyrule since you came here," she noted slowly. Her hazel eyes glinted with childish curiosity in the moonlight. "What's it like?"

At that, the knight couldn't resist launching into an enthusiastic lecture about his homeland's varied landscapes. Despite the homesickness that roiled like an incoming tide in his heart, he realized it felt good to talk with an attentive audience about the home he hadn't seen in over a month. An occasional glance at her eyes—wide with awe and glee at the vivid pictures of the vast, half-lit Faron Woods and the sunlit emerald plains of Hyrule Field—filled him with pride and a sense of ease he hadn't felt since his knighting. That such a simple thing could have such an effect surprised him, and he wondered how it had happened.

He decided not to worry about it for the time being, and moved from his explanation of geographical Hyrule to demographical Hyrule. Myria gaped like a schoolchild at Link's descriptions of the graceful, aquatic Zora of Lake Hylia and boulder-like Gorons, rock-men of the western Snowpeak Range and rulers of Death Mountain. His tales of daring exploits and near-fatal encounters in his squirehood when he and a squad of knights were sent to explore the uncharted mountains entranced her. And once again, the Hylian somehow managed to forget his feelings of homesickness as he delved into the vast well of experiences he had accumulated in ten short years of knightly training.

Myria in turn offered a few of her own equally-exciting tales. The few occasions when someone had gone missing near the mouth of the Pass, myths about the dangers of Prywyn's lake, stories from Aldea's history and lore… Link devoured these with the hunger of a bookworm who had read his own tomes three times each and just been handed a new novella for his collection.

Her tales of the Great Marshes of Aldea intrigued him the most. That region consisted almost entirely of scraggly forests of half-sized trees and swampland that few dared traverse. The nearest village was a relatively safe ten miles from the definite edge of the marsh—and even that was too close for some. Link had never heard of such a dark place before; the legends claimed that those who dared venture within and never returned transformed into malevolent spirits.

"Their cries are said to haunt the deep swamps through night _and_ day, never ceasing their miserable and furious wailing," Myria narrated in hushed tones. She looked and sounded nothing short of a soothsayer when she told stories, a fact that didn't get by Link.

"You know quite a lot about lands beyond your home," he commented casually. He turned his head to his right, where she lay on her back beside him and stared up at the stars.

She mirrored him, the beginnings of a knowing smirk on her lips. "It makes for better storytelling to know stuff like this," she told him with a humble air. "Most of what I know comes from the news an occasional merchant or sellsword drops on his way through. Unfortunately, even that's not much; despite being built near the only pass between our countries, Prywyn doesn't get that many visitors."

"Hmm…" Somehow, Link got the impression she both knew more than she was letting on and wasn't being entirely truthful about the origin of that knowledge. He knew better than to pry, however. For one, it wasn't his place; she was his gracious host. If it weren't for her, he'd likely be dead by now. The least he could do was be accommodating—which reminded him…

"Then I suppose, since you don't have company all that often, I should tell you why I'm here," he said softly.

They both rolled to their sides and sat up at almost the same time, though he was a little faster. Myria's eyes glimmered with surprise and confusion at his words. She remained silent as he gathered his thoughts, either through shock or simple discipline to wait for the warrior's explanation.

"Everything I've told your mother already is true," he began. "I am a knight, I was chased out of Hyrule, and I don't know why. I _do_ have suspicions, though, and the senses to gather evidence for them.

"From what I can see, Hyrule is on the brink of devolving into either outright tyranny or rebellion. I think it's going to be the former. Something is wrong with the King; he has locked up—or at least tried to imprison—the Princess, and he isn't paying attention to the issues which really matter to Hyrule.

"I was going to enact an investigation into this unusual behavior once I became a knight," Link admitted, "but that got tossed out the window the day of the ceremony. It all looked normal until Fa—the Knight Captain began the dubbing, but…"

Myria watched him with patient, solemn eyes while he fought back the renewed pain of his father's betrayal. After a moment, he managed to continue, "He tried to kill me, and blamed me for kidnapping the Princess, even though it was _her_ father who had locked her up. She and her bodyguard had escaped a week or so before; none of this, of course, was common knowledge. Her father claimed she was simply taken with a rather harsh bout of flu and had been cloistered for the nurses to attend to her."

Link shook his head and sighed, his free hand clenching into a fist with contained anger and bitterness. "I could do nothing then. Fully twenty knights were on the Captain's side, despite their obvious misgivings. I suspect they, too, were under the same curse, possession, magic, or whatever it was that brainwashed their leader. They followed me into the 'Peaks and caught up after the first blizzard. They would have killed me then and there if Sensei Impa hadn't been nearby to give me a hand." A tiny smile twitched at his lips at the unintended pun. "After that, I only remember running—and straight into a second blizzard, at that.

"And that's how I got here. I didn't want to say anything at first," he confessed contritely, avoiding her gaze, "because I couldn't be entirely certain Dw—the Captain wouldn't find me, and possibly hurt your family to get to me. I'm sorry…"

At a gentle hand on his shoulder, the warrior lifted his eyes to Myria's. "It's alright," she assured. "I understand. I can't imagine what it must be like, so far from home without a single familiar soul nearby. And to have these worries hanging over you, as well…"

Unsure what to say to that, Link simply offered a tentative smile and put his hand over hers in wordless thanks. The pair held the understanding gaze a moment, but soon turned toward the lake at an insistent, unmistakable tug from the ignored fishing pole.

That brought quiet laughter into the melancholy air, and their hearts shed the dark ambience that had gathered about them in such a short time.

"Well, it seems you _are_ going to be catching something tonight," Myria pointed out amusedly.

Link laughed at that sentiment. "I'm not _that_ good a fisherman."

Nonetheless, a second tug had him diving for the fishing pole before his foe could drag it to a watery grave.


End file.
